


A Negation of God

by Oh_Toasty



Series: Clearing out the Hard-drive: Finishing Old Works [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: A little, Asgard, Asgardian Culture (Marvel), Asgardian Tony Stark, BAMF Frigga (Marvel), BAMF Tony Stark, Bad Odin, Gen, Imperialism, Rebellion, Royal Tony Stark, Tony Stark-centric, Vanaheimr | Vanaheim, Vanir Culture, Vanir Tony Stark, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 03:31:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17821010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_Toasty/pseuds/Oh_Toasty
Summary: Before he was Tony Stark, he was Prince Átrunadr of Vanaheim; before he was Átrunadr of Vanaheim, he was the nameless unborn son of Frigga.





	A Negation of God

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, as a result of the premis of this story, Tony will be referred to as another name for the first part.

She dreams of fates, weaving themselves in intricate patterns that spell the doom of Vanaheim. She dreams of the end of her kingdom, crushed beneath the fist of her husband. 

Frigga watches as the threads weave together into the slaughter of her people and she knows she must change fate, must protect the Vanir. 

Grasping the threads in her hands, Frigga tears apart the weaving and starts anew. 

When she awakens, it's to the pounding of her own heart and the bitter taste left in her mouth from what she's seen. Then the pain of the first contraction hits and Frigga grips her sheets and calls for a handmaiden. 

Sjofn enters, and the breath that leaves Frigga is one of relief. She knows Sjofn is a goddess of affection and a protector of children, that she'll lavish care upon her son. 

“Let me fetch a healer,” Sjofn says as she realizes what is happening, “They'll assist with the birth.”

“No,” Frigga barks, voice strong despite the fact that she's otherwise occupied. “No healers, just us.”

“Of course,” Sjofn agrees but her eyebrows are furrowed as she comes back to her queen’s side. “What can I do for you then?”

“Listen,” Frigga instructs. “Sjofn, this is the most important task I will ever give you.”

“Yes, my lady?” Sjofn asks, eyes intent on Frigga. 

Frigga swallows the lump in her throat, “When the child is born don't tell any Aesir, take him to Vanaheim. Let him grow up among my people, let him change fate.”

“But My Lady,” Sjofn whispers, “What of the All-Father?”

“I'll say I lost the baby,” Frigga says quietly, “Now tell me Sjofn, will you do as I ask?”

“Yes.” The handmaiden agrees quickly, “I’d be honored.”

A smile breaks out across Frigga’s face, “Good, when you arrive ask after Lytir, the people will get you where you need.”

Sjofn looks at the queen apprehensively, “My lady, if I may, what will happen to happen to the prince?”

“He’ll be raised in secret, a true prince of Vanaheim, should the day ever come that we'll need it.” Frigga frowns thinking of her friends and family dead at Odin’s hand. “I can only ask the Norn's that this will be enough.”

Hours later, when the baby is born, Sjofn holds him tenderly, “What's his name?”

“Tradition dictates that he be named Vísi, but situation demands that I ignore tradition. Instead, his caregiver can name him upon your arrival.”

“Very well,” Sjofn says as she takes her leave and Frigga sits down to pen a letter to Odin telling him of the loss of their child. 

Not even two weeks later, Odin has returned with a Frost Giant child to replace their own. Despite Odin's claims that the child is so that Thor won't be disappointed by the lack of a sibling, Frigga knows the truth. The child is a pawn, and Frigga decides to love it all the more to make up for Odin’s lack of feeling. 

-

Frigga’s child is raised under the name of Átrunadr, a name given to him by his mentor Lytir. He grows up both surrounded by his people, and separate from them. 

He is a secret the whole realm knows of, yet never speaks of. He is raised as a prince, taught how to be a good King, but never allowed to step foot in court for fear of Odin discovering his existence. 

He is a realm’s salvation, but one misstep could make him their doom and he's desperate to understand why things are like this. 

Átrunadr is five centuries old when he finally asks Lytir about his situation. 

“I don't understand,” Átrunadr admits, “Why raise me like a king when we answer to the All-Father? Why put the realm in danger by keeping me around?”

“When Odin invaded,” Lytir says slowly, “he slaughtered the royal family, and took a warrior as a wife. He took this warrior, your mother, because she was next to inherit the Vanir throne and he thought that by having her bear his children, he'd ensure that we would be loyal to him. He does not know that the first born is not always our king, the most deserving child is, and since you're the one Frigga sent to us, we will be loyal to you not Thor. The day will come when Odin will decide that the loose control he has over Vanaheim is not enough, he will march on our realm bringing death and destruction. He will try to destroy our culture, everything that reminds us who we are, to help enforce his rule. Then he will expect us to bow down before him and we will not. You see Átrunadr, you're being raised as a prince because you are one, and the day Odin returns, we will show him that we already have a king.”

“You want me to fight Odin,” Átrunadr whispers quietly, it isn't a question. 

Lytir nods, “Yes, and we want you to win. It's why we train you so often in both weaponry and seiðr, so that you'll be proficient by the time he comes. 

“I see,” Átrunadr says in a voice that's hardly audible, “May I be excused?”

Lytir nods once, and watches the boy leave hoping that he hasn't said too much, given the child too much responsibility. 

After that day, Átrunadr throws himself into his lessons. Within a century, he has surpassed his master in scholarly activities. In two centuries, he's proficient in most weaponry and a seiðr master. 

In his spare time, Átrunadr builds. He builds wondrous inventions that could revolutionize all of Vanaheim, and then he hides them away at Lytir’s bidding. 

“They will bring attention,” Lytir tells him, “Save them for when we need no longer fear having Odin’s eye upon us.”

When he is a thousand years of age, the time comes for his Hyggja Vegr, a journey of observation. 

“Traditionally, the future ruler would chose any realm they wish, and spend a short amount of time there acting as the people there do. However, since we cannot risk you being discovered, we will send you to Midgard.” Lytir smiles, “They no longer believe we exist and shouldn't question your presence so long as you act as they do. It shouldn't be a problem, seeing as the rules of Hyggja Vegr demand you behave as the species you live among.”

Átrunadr looks at his mentor questioningly, “You want me to behave as a mortal?”

“Yes,” Lytir tells him. “That means no seiðr, and no weapons. The mortals use other types of warfare these days.”

“Very well,” Átrunadr agrees, “When do I go?”

“Nine months,” Lytir says with a grin. “I've already made arrangements, a man and woman, Howard and Maria Stark have been hoping for a child. You're going to make their dreams come true.”

“No,” Átrunadr objects, “I refuse to act like an infant, besides the magic I’d have to use to disguise myself would break the rules, would it not?”

“No, not at all.” Lytir smirks, “Spells cast before you go are allowed. So you simply must cast one to make you appear as Maria Stark’s infant, and ensure you'll grow at a mortal rate.”

Despite all of his bickering, nine months later Átrunadr is there to act as Anthony “Tony” Stark. He spends the next couple years of his life acting like a normal child, though within five years he's already acquainting himself with human technology. 

Átrunadr, or Tony as he's now called, falls in love with it instantly. The mortals have gone a completely different direction than his people and it's fascinating to see that their technology runs on power sources that aren't magic in nature. 

He watches Howard build, and slowly climbs up the ladder towards that level of mastery over technology. He's only just reached it when Howard and Maria die in a car crash. 

To say that Tony is shocked is an understatement, he'd forgotten the fragility of mortals, how young they died. He'd never grown particularly close to Howard and Maria, but their deaths remind him of the other mortals he's come to care for, and the fact that they'll be gone soon. When the funeral is over and Tony finally gets home, he hugs Rhodey far tighter than ever before. 

Their friendship grows from there, Rhodey always being around to help Tony. He's there when Tony takes over the company, watches as Tony invents creations better and bigger than ever before. He's there to convince Tony that hiring Pepper as a PA is the right decision, though he doesn't know why his friend is so worried about it. 

Rhodey is there when he demonstrates the Jericho missile and their convoy is attacked. He is there when Tony is blown up and helpless to do anything about it. Rhodey continues to search the whole time Tony is missing. 

He doesn't know that Tony is trapped in a cave, building an arc reactor to help with the issues that come from having shrapnel embedded in your chest. Tony works hard, but he also works as a human would, not once using magic for fear of ruining his chances of completing the Hyggja Vegr and becoming a king. 

Tony escapes, and finds Rhodey who, by some miracle, is still looking for him. He wonders if humans aren't the truly superior beings. 

Time passes, Tony rebuilds the suit. For the first time in decades, Tony stops counting down the time left till he can use magic. He's content. 

Then Obadiah rips out his reactor and it's only the Vanir blood racing through his veins that keeps him alive long enough to replace it. Fear and anger and power rush through his body, but he reigns it in. ‘The human way,’ Tony reminds himself, ‘The human way, or not at all.’

Tony dons his suit and takes off after Obadiah; he is content to learn that the man doesn't survive their encounter, because for all that the Vanir are not a warrior race like the Aesir, they can still appreciate revenge. 

“I am Ironman,” Tony says later and the taste is bittersweet in his mouth. Because, for all the joy it brings him to be free of this secret, it reminds him of the others he brings. He thinks of childhoods lived in secret and a faint hope that maybe, just maybe, one day his royal status would no longer be a secret. 

He has four years left until he can use his magic again, and so he distracts himself with his duties as Ironman. He loves what he does, and focuses all of his attention into saving people, the way he's supposed to save his realm. Ideas of introducing magic to his armor run through his head but he puts them aside for later. For now, it's just Tony and his intellect. 

The day that Loki attacks, Tony is one day off from being able to use his magic. 

“Of course,” He grumbles as he suits up in order to fly to Stuttgart, “He couldn't wait another day to invade!”

Loki surrenders upon his arrival and Tony, who has heard so much about the trickster god from Lytir, does not believe him for a moment. But then Thor comes, and Lytir’s tales of his brash brother fill his mind and Tony goes after them to get Loki back. 

The trickster comes back with them and in Tony's head warning bells ring. Loki could very well have escaped had he wanted to. 

The helicarrier begins to fall, and Tony wishes desperately for access to his magic. Instead, he’s forced to rely solely on his suit and his wits. He fixes the engine and returns to find Loki has killed Phil Coulson. He idly notes as Fury trying to pull them together into a team with Phil’s death, but his mind is elsewhere. He thinks about the wound on Coulson’s body where the spear barely missed the heart. It's a wound any Aesir would survive, and from a prince known for his precision. 

He wonders what Loki really wants. 

“Is this your first time losing a soldier,” Rogers asks and Tony blows up because he knows, far better than these men, the consequences of war. He knows the pain it can bring, both physical and emotional. The constant, throbbing pain of his arc reactor, and the fate of his realm are proof enough of that. 

Tony changes the topic, tells Rogers exactly where Loki is going and fixes up his suit to fly home. 

“Have you come to appeal to my humanity?” Loki questions and Tony lets out a peal of laughter. 

As he pops on the bracelets for another suit Tony answers Loki’s question, “What humanity? You aren't human, you're a god. I shouldn't need to appeal to that aspect of your being if you don't possess it.”

Loki’s eyes narrow, “A curious view point.” 

Tony nods, walking up towards the Aesir. “I'm a curious man, which brings me to my question. Why invade earth? If you really want a throne, why not invade Asgard, go after a throne you have a claim to?”

“It's none of your concern,” Loki sneers taking a dangerous step towards Tony. “Maybe I simply wished to watch you all be crushed beneath my boot.”

There is something left unsaid, Tony is sure of it, but he also knows that digging won't help anymore. Instead he fixes a lavish smile on Loki, “Frigga wouldn't want this.”

Any faint trace of amusement leaves Loki’s face, “Where did you hear that name? You've known of the Aesir less than a day and I doubt Thor spent his time regaling you with tales of his mother.”

“It doesn't matter,” Tony tells him. “What matters is that she wouldn't want you do this, Frigga cares about the realms’ freedom.”

Loki snarls, “It doesn't matter, her opinion of me and my actions has no meaning.”

“You're her son,” Tony says as he tries hard not to think about the fact that it's true. 

Loki stalks forwards threateningly, “She's not my mother, my true mother abandoned me!”

“My mother abandoned me too, but she had a good reason in mind. Maybe you just don't know the full story.”

Loki shakes his head eyes hit with rage and a green sparkle of magic around him, “Don't lie to me mortal! Barton showed me your file, you were not abandoned. This attempt at a connection won't work!”

The green magic wraps around Tony and launches his out of the window at high speeds. Even as his armor comes to engulf him, he wishes for his magic. 

A repulsor blast to the face puts Loki down temporarily, but Tony is too curious about the other gods actions to put more effort into incapacitating him. After all, he needs to focus on the Chitauri now. 

The council sends a nuclear missile, a fucking nuke, and Tony hates his life. His magic would be very convenient at that moment. 

“Let's get Shawarma,” Tony suggests when he wakes up from his fall from the sky. 

“There is something we must take care of first,” Thor says and Tony rolls his eyes because Loki isn't an object. 

He wonders if that's the reason Loki attacked Earth, he really was just that fed up with Odin and Thor. Then he shakes his head, because when they corner him he can see in Loki’s eyes that isn't the full story. 

“I think I’ll have that drink now,” Loki says and Tony finally places the emotion he sees in the other god’s eyes. Relief, he's relieved that he lost. 

Tony is intrigued, intrigued enough to be disappointed when he cannot go to see Loki off. Still, he has plans to meet with Lytir and he cannot ignore them to spend time with one of Asgard’s princes. 

He finds Lytir while walking down the streets of New York. The older god falls into step besides him as Tony nods in greeting. 

“We've got to hurry,” Tony says shortly, “If we spend too much time together the press may notice.”

Lytir shrugs, “Why does it matter you can come home now?”

“Not yet,” Tony tells him. “After the invasion yesterday, we can't have a high profile figure like myself disappear. I’ll have to stay on Midgard a little while longer.”

“Very well,” Lytir acquiesces. “I'm sure you already know that you can use your magic once more, though I caution you to be wary among the mortals. Be extra careful around Prince Thor should he appear again, l have no desire for the Aesir to learn of your existence.”

“About that,” Tony hums, “I think I may have found an ally in the fight against Asgard.”

Lytir’s head snaps towards him, “Atrunadr, no.”

“Tony please,” the younger god says, “That's the name I use while on earth.”

“Very well, but you can't honestly believe we have an ally in-”

Tony cuts him off, “I believe we can have an ally in him. Loki isn't one yet, though it should be simple enough to gain his help. He hates Odin and he's conflicted about Frigga. If we assured him that no harm would come to her, he may very well join us when the time comes.”

“Tell me Tony,” Lytir begins, “When will you recruit Loki, while he rots in Odin’s dungeons?”

“I won't,” Tony replies. “Odin will do that for us. Every action he takes drives Loki farther from him.”

“Say you speak the truth, what guarantee do we have that Loki will join us, at most we can expect him to not interfere.”

Tony thinks of Loki’s face as he brought up Frigga, thinks of the others visceral reaction as he implied she would be disappointed. 

“Lytir, our guarantee is that we fight with Frigga’s blessing, and if there is one thing Loki loves, it is his mother.” Tony stops as he catches sight of paparazzi sneaking closer. “You should leave now. Before the cameras capture you on film, Thor could recognize you.”

“Very well,” Lytir sighs as he rests a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “I will inform the others of our possible ally, I hope you know what you are doing.” 

“Trust me,” Tony says as he remembers the relief in Loki’s eyes. “He's more than meets the eye.”

“He may very well be,” Lytir agrees. “But you have an entire realm to care for. Your Hyggja Vegr has been completed; you're a king now even if it cannot be officially announced. That means you must put your people first, not your new fascination.”

Tony levels Lytir with a glare, “I have always put my people first, everything I do, everything I build, it's all for them. The only time I have put myself first is when you have told me to, so do not speak to me of duty.”

“Very well,” Lytir smiles. “Goodbye my king, may the Norns watch over you.”

Tony watches as he turns and walks away before going in the opposite direction. He can feel the change in the air, he knows that soon Vanaheim will stand again, but at the moment there is nothing he can do besides wait. Lytir has kept Vanaheim’s military at its finest since before Tony’s birth, and the other nobility maintain the fleets of warrior mages. Tony himself has a large store of accumulated magic from the years of his Hyggja Vegr. 

When Tony breaks out of his thoughts he finds his feet have carried him to the park where Thor and Loki have just departed. Closing his eyes, he reaches out with his magic, gently tracing the path left by the tesseract’s magic. When he feels where the magic connects to Asgard, directly in the throne room, he smiles and memorizes the magic used before it can dissipate. After all, one can never know when a backdoor into Asgard will be necessary. 

“Stark,” a voice calls and Tony looks over to see Loki standing besides him. It's an illusion of course, but Tony can't help but be grudgingly impressed by his ability to appear despite the magic reducing cuffs he wears. There's no doubt in his mind that Loki is a formidable foe, or would be was Tony not trained to defeat a man with even more power. 

“Loki,” Tony says quietly not moving his lips noticeably. “To what do I owe the pleasure.”

“Curiosity.” Loki states simply. They begin to walk together, heading towards Stark Tower. “I was willing to ignore the fact that you knew Frigga’s name, but her reaction hearing your name, that piqued my interest once again. After all, why would a mortal draw the attention of the All-Mother?”

Tony shrugs as he pushes open the door to his tower and makes his way towards the stairs (the elevators have us to be restored). There he pauses and looks at Loki.

“What do you expect for me to say, I don't even know the All-Mother!” It's true, Tony doesn't know her, hasn't seen her since she sent him away to Vanaheim. He doesn't even know how she managed to recognize the name Tony Stark when she was never even told his Vanir name. 

Loki taps the fingers of his right hand against his left vambrace. “I find that hard to believe Stark, I'll be watching you.”

Then Loki is gone and Tony throws himself down onto his couch laughing. It seems Loki won't be hard at all to talk over to their side, not when he's watching and his intrigue is only growing. 

Time passes and Tony trains. He blocks himself from Loki and Heimdall’s sight as he practices weaponry and magical skills known by none but the few remaining Vanir masters. 

Years tick by and were it not for the ageing spell he wears he never would've noticed. After all, what's a handful of years to a quasi-immortal being?

Then the convergence is upon them and Tony takes advantage of the closeness of the other worlds to make his way to Vanaheim without being noticed. He is not sure why, but he knows Loki is not watching him as he walks the branches of Yggdrasil up until he reaches the heavens where Vanaheim reside. 

“Lytir,” Tony greets as he arrives in his home realm and meets with his former mentor. “How are you?”

“Well,” Lytir says. He does not spare any other time on pleasantries. “Your timing is good Átrundar, the time for war is coming. I can taste it in the air.”

“As could I,” Tony admits. “I felt the Aether stir, someone had removed it from its containment. We must hope that Odin does not wield it against us during the war.”

Lytir nods, “And the other infinity gem, the mind stone?”

“Still safely encased within Loki’s scepter,” Tony reassures him quietly as they round a corner and Vanaheim’s palace comes into view. 

Tony stops in place, he has never entered this place, his soon to be home and he can feel the tension rise within his guts. He knows that if he enters into the castle, he is acknowledging how soon the war will be. 

With a deep breath, Tony walks in. 

He walks down the hallways of the castle, well aware of the eyes that follow him. Servants stood in their tasks, eyes flitting about him and taking in his appearance. He can tell the moment they realize his armor is of Vanir make and has a royal blue thread of color throughout it. From there, he feels their gaze bounce up to his head where a thin circlet of Uru rests. 

He knows that nobody will mistake him as anything except king. He knows that he screams power and now that he has dropped his warding, Odin knows of his existence. 

Tony seats himself in the long since empty throne, Lytir at his side and he waits. 

He has not been seated long when a raven appears in the courtroom and perches on the arm of the throne. 

“Hello, Huginn or Munin?” Tony watches the bird but receives no response to his question. 

Ruffling its feathers the bird croaks, “The All-Father demands you explain yourself! How dare you sit in this throne?”

Tony's lip curls in disgust as he looks down at the bird. “I am the King of Vanaheim, birthed by Frigga herself and sent to Master Mage Lytir for training. I am the chosen son, raised to guard Vanaheim and the time has come for us to separate ourselves from the rule of Asgard. We will not stand it any longer.”

“You would declare war?” The bird asks flapping its wings and rising until it is level with Tony’s face. 

“I would,” Tony says, “I am.”

The bird gives an ear piercing caw, a portal opening before it and it flies back to Asgard to relay their conversation to Odin. 

“Lytir,” Tony calls and the man appears before the throne, bowing. “Ready the armies.”

“Gladly,” Lytir smiles and his teeth come to sharp little points. 

When the man had disappeared, Tony summoned a crystal and proceeded to scry into it. 

•War drums beat, Odin himself strapping into armor. “How dare he claim to Frigga’s child; how dare he defile her name before her body is even cold?” War cries burst from his armies as Odin lifts Gungnir. •

His mother is dead, but Tony cannot dwell on that fact. He cannot even stop to consider if he is truly sad about the demise of a women he never knew. Instead, he rises from his throne and makes his way to the armory where they have slowly been collecting a mass of weapons without Odin’s knowledge. 

Different options surround him, but his time is limited and so Tony simply closes his eyes and allows his magic to chose and summon one. When a solid weight appears in his hands, Tony opens his eyes to find the magic sword Skofnung, renowned for its unyielding sharpness, wounds which would not heal without a Skofnung stone, and the twelve berserker spirits that imbue it. With a grim smile, Tony returns to the throne room. 

Gently, he sets the sword down onto his throne while he summons his armor and begins to don it. The armor is like nothing before seen in the nine realms, a mixture of traditional Vanir armors and his ironman suit. The strong thick metal of his suit covers his body up to his shoulders, magical Vanir runes carved into the sides to grant speed and strength. In the palms and soles of his feet, where one could usually find repulsors, there rest extra magic reserves. There is no helmet and faceplate, only the simple Uru crown spelled to prevent damage in that vicinity. The armor is silver with royal blue accents, meant to convey his position of power to Odin. 

His armor on, Tony settles in to wait. 

Odin should not be long, not when he is driven by rage and grief such as now. He will not stop and think things through, but rather he will strike. 

It will work in Tony’s own favor. 

He can hear the beating of the drums from the edge of the royal gardens. No man can mass the barrier with ill intent, and, as such, all of Odin’s men are trapped on the other side of it unless he allows them to pass. 

As he approaches the army, his own materializes behind him, shadow walking to take their place in support of him. He does not turn to look, as it would surely be taken as a sign of weakness, but he can feel the crowd amassing. 

“Your Highness,” Lytir greets as appears to the right of him, though slightly behind in a calculated show of deference. They aim to make Odin believe that Tony had had his power as King for long enough to have a firm grasp over the kingdom. 

“Advisor.”

“The army has gathered, though we still wait upon the arrival of the Levantran.”

“They will come,” Tony answers him. “Vanaheim is their home, and it has been subject to another for to long.”

Tony halts at the barrier, assessing Odin as they stand in silence. The other king is well prepared for battle, wielding Gungnir with pride, but Tony can see in his eyes that he is not well. The loss of his wife has affected him. 

Tony does not smile, though he silently catalogues his opponents weakness and the inherent danger it adds. 

“Father,” He greets. 

“You are not my son,” Odin spits. “You defile the name of my wife by claiming this throne.”

“You know this to be a falsehood,” Tony replies. “The Shield Of Singasteinn would respond to no less than the true king of Vanaheim. Nonetheless I do not particularly care to be your son, afterall the one you stole to replace me languishes in your own prisons even now, does he not?”

“Do not speak of Loki!” Thor shouts, and for the first time Tony notices him. 

He raised his brow, “Why ever not?”

“My brother is dead.”

Tony frowns, “A shame, I had hoped he would ally himself with Vanaheim. Oh well, there is nothing to be done.”

Odin scowls, “Loki would never, despite his misgivings about his family, his love was strong.”

“I disagree.” Tony hums, he’s more than content to draw this conversation out, creating doubt not just with Odin, but among Thor and his men. Looking past the false king, he can see several Vanir mingled with the Æsir. If he can convince them of his right to the throne, it will only help. “When I met your brother it seemed his loyalty was to his mother, and Frigga is the one who chose to have me raised as the Vanir king.”

Thor steps towards the shield, hand upon Mjolnir. “What do you mean, when you met Loki?”

“Don’t seem so shocked, Thor. We have met as well, we were even Shield Brothers at one point. Though I admit you wouldn’t have recognized that I was your true brother; my name at the time was Tony Stark.”

Thor steps back, seemingly viewing Tony in a new light. His armor must make much more sense now, and Tony wonders briefly if by revealing himself he’s given away too much of his technique. Afterall, Thor has seen him fight over the years. He dismisses it easily enough, the advantage of unnerving his birth brother is more than enough, and as Ironman he had never used even half of his skills. 

“Enough chit chat.” Odin declares. “If you seek the throne, you must face me like a man.”

“Very well,” Tony agrees. “I challenge you to an Einvigi, may the winner rule Vanaheim”

“I agree.” Odin replies, and the earth shakes as the Norns hear the agreement. 

Fate is being written. 

“Then you, and only you, may pass the shield.”

Odin steps forth, and, though neither man moves at first, the battle begins. Each man assesses his opponent, looking for weakness. 

Odin is the first to strike, believing his opponent to be green and untried. Tony counters, bringing his sword down against his father’s. After that, the battle begins in earnest. Tony can feel his breath coming fast. Odin is good, but he must be better. 

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been fighting, when Odin finally deigns to use magic. He’s been waiting for the other man to use it first, as the challenger Odin must set the terms of their duel. 

Gold light strikes him in the shoulder. Tony fights back a grin. He imbues his sword with magic, watching it shine with power. 

He brings it down, catching Odin’s leg. The air smells of copper. In the corner of his eyes, Tony can see the Levantran shifting, eager for a taste of the man who had subjugated them. 

“Is that all you’ve got, boy?” Odin’s asks, his magic casting a snare, that catches Tony by the ankle. 

Tony does not reply. 

Odin charges, Gungnir slicing Tony’s ribs as he attempts to doge. He fires magic back, aiming for Odin’s head and reaching only his chest. The older man, flies through the air, but lands on his feet. 

The fight continues until they are both weary, moving slowly and reaching favoring their wounds slowly areas. Neither is sure who will win, and yet both are fueled by a need to do just that. 

Neither King’s subjects make move to help. This is not their battle, despite the fact that it was very much a battle for the people of Vanaheim. If their king failed, they would be punished most severely. Many would be killed as Odin attempted to weed out the traitors to his reign. 

Eventually, Odin speaks again. 

“You truly think yourself King of this land, but you fail to recognize that the woman who you believe gave birth to you was mine, and as a result so is this land.”

“Frigga was nobodies but her own.” Tony eyes spark. “Afterall, she chose to defy you and fake my death, did she not.”

Odin roars, lunging after Tony. It is in this moment that he makes a mistake, his feet are left open and his stance unstable. Swooping in, Tony kicks both legs out from under him. 

He stands above his father, sword pressed to his throat. 

“Yield and swear an oath to Skuld, Norn of our Fate, that for as long as Vanaheim stands she will be her own.”

“No,” Odin croaks. 

Tony kicks Gungnir farther away from where it lay in the dust. “You will swear or I will kill you here and now, leaving your remaining son an orphan.”

Odin’s voice, when it comes, is weak and fading “You would orphan yourself.”

Tony snorts. “I am not your son when it conveniences you, and I have been an orphan since birth.”

Odin does not reply. 

“Yield,” Tony demands, and he sees the man before his sword gasping for air. 

He falls unconscious, and Tony can tell that the Odin sleep has befallen him. Cursing his luck, Tony turns to Thor who watches from across the barrier. 

“Your Father has fallen. Will you yield on his behalf, swearing the oath I demand as King of Asgard, or will you wield your army against mine, sacrificing your father for a land that does not want you?”

The decision weighs heavily on Thor, he can see it in the man’s deep frown and furrowed brows. No doubt Thor was not how Thor had anticipated that his day would go, the revelation of another brother would have been shocking enough without the the death of his mother, brother, and the potential death of his father. 

Tony does not allow himself to care, his people must come first. 

“Very well,” Thor agrees. “I swear to our Lady Skuld that Vanaheim is her own land for as long as she could govern, controlled by her own people.”

Tony nods regally, sheathing his sword. 

“If your intentions are pure, the shield will allow you to cross. You may take your father with you, but you would do well to remember that should either of you return with ill intentions toward Vanaheim, Fate herself will stand against you.” 

Thor steps across the shimmering shield, and lifts his father into his arms. 

Tony watches, eager to see his enemies retreat. 

“You will be a fair ruler.” Thor says quietly. 

“I can only hope so.”

Then they are gone, not just Thor and Odin, but the whole of Asgard’s army. 

Tony turns to his people, his army, the Levantran, and the citizens who had come to watch the fight for freedom. He looks upon them and, despite the blood, sweat, and dirt that coats his body, he feels better than he ever has before. 

“People of Vanaheim, we are finally free.”

A cheer goes up amongst the people, and Tony feels a thrill like no other. There’s still much to be done, the damages Odin had wrought must be righted and no doubt when the King of Asgard awakes there will be consequences, but for now none of that matters. What matters is that Vanaheim is finally her own again.


End file.
